


Carnival on a Summer Night

by I_Am_Titanium



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Again sort of, Agents of SHIELD - Freeform, Bobbi Striving To Become A Badass Field Agent For Nat, Canon-Typical Violence, Cool SHIELD Ladies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fury Being A Lesbian Ally - It's Canon!, Like Real Cliche But I Am A Sucker For Cliche, Mentor/Protégé, Okay I Made That Up But He Really Is A Good Friend, Sort Of, and maybe smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Titanium/pseuds/I_Am_Titanium
Summary: Sure, all those telltale adventures sound nice enough, but what can be more enticing than a converted hot Russian spy who's living her life out there while you're stuck in a dull lab am I right???
Relationships: Bobbi Morse/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Carnival on a Summer Night

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another twist in canon--so Bobbi just kinda joined SHIELD as a field agent autonomously when she realized she was more suited for it, BUT, what if it's lesbian, sorry, what if Nat did the most crucial pushing?
> 
> And I know I'm digging a lot of pits without filling, as the action of starting many stories simultaneously without actually finishing any of them is described in our fandom language, but this story has been sitting in my brain for a really long time and I just have to write it okay! End of discussion!
> 
> And yes it's another song fic, Hurt by Lady Antebellum. Perfect for fluff/angst. Go try it out!

> It always starts off simple like a conversation  
> Before I know it I’m lost in your illumination

"So right across here we’re at the labs. As a secret agency handling natural _and_ supernatural emergencies, SHIELD is equipped with the most advanced technology to ensure the maximum efficiency of any investigation. But as for now, that’s none of your concerns." The older woman smiled at the blonde girl who was clearly nervous in a strange environment and handed over the pad in her hand, the familiar formula and data that she had been working on for months relaxing her at least for a bit.

Translucent doors slid open after the retina scan, and two of them walked between desks stacked with pieces of equipment that Bobbi couldn’t even name, who was curiously eyeing her future workplace.

"Let’s be straight: there are lots of spying around here, but those ain’t your fight. What SHIELD values--what Fury values are your top-notch achievement in biochemistry. He paid for your pretty hands wrapped around test tubes instead of guns, and Dr. Erskin’s Super Soldier Formula cracked as soon as possible. After all, you, Dr. Morse, are the closest person to the greatest invention in the 20th century."

Bobbi took the pad, the other hand clutching tightly to a white coat with eagle sigil on the shoulder part, too unease to move around. "You flatter me, Dr. Calvin. I am only doing my job." She glanced at the running program and frowned, "Speaking of which, why is it only recording data set from 15 samples? There’s supposed to be another case."

"Oh, I was just getting to that. Guess I’m really getting old." Wilma recalled apologetically, "most of the agents went looking on. The Bureau caught someone huge? A communist spy. I’m too old for gossip, but from what I heard you’d want to stay away from her. They call her… What do they call her again?" The professor started scratching her silver hair again trying to recall, "anyway, the last crate should be on the Quinjet you took when you came in in the sub-level hanger. The agents responsible for transferring them must have missed it."

Bobbi was somewhere between annoyed and amused, "you mean a group of trained agents went AWOL for a Soviet?"

To her surprise, Wilma nodded in solemn, "I would recommend against underestimating her, Bobbi. She took down two strike teams on her tail, not to mention the turmoil she stirred up a while ago at Stark Industries. Don’t engage her."

"Well, I can’t think of any reasons for that until absolutely necessary, anyway." Bobbi put down her pad on a desk to put on her lab coat with little hesitation, adjusted her name tag in earnest, "I’ll be right back. I am truly grateful for everything you’ve done for me, doctor."

"Nothing you don’t deserve, Bobbi." Wilma smiled, "welcome to SHIELD."

* * *

Someone turned off the huge light source in the hanger, but Bobbi didn’t mind much. After finding out the serial number of the jet she came in on from the flying log at the entrance, she brought a flashlight to search among giant iron birds. Their sharp silhouette in the dark reminded her of hibernating birds of prey, waiting for the command to shoot for the sky. Even as someone in R&D who had basically nothing to do with them, Bobbi couldn’t help but admire the designs. Flying one of these must be epic.

She found her jet at the end of the hanger, its cabin still wide open. The flashlight locked on a black suitcase with the sigil of Georgia Institute of Technology in the corner. She sighed in relief, crossing the gap in big strides to pick it up and headed for the exit.

She stopped at the firearm shack by the doorframe and made a sharp turnaround with a brand new Mauser 1898 in her hand. She put down the case, took a shredded breath, and pointed the gun at the direction of the cockpit, which seemed like nothing but shadows, gripping it so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"I know you’re sneaking around in the dark. I see you! Get out, or I won’t guarantee where those bullets are heading!" She shouted, switching the flashlight to her other hand.

Nothing. She almost thought she was hearing things, but then she heard a chuckle, and someone was coming out of the cockpit. Bobbi immediately shifted her lights on the grinning face, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

She was quite a mess with a black-and-blue eye, jumbled fiery red hair reflecting in the lights, another two newly-healed graze on the chin, dried blood stuck on her skin. She dressed casually in an "I ❤ New York" souvenir T-shirt that could be found everywhere and plain jeans, a dark blue Mickey Mouse watch on her wrist, if not for the lacerations and blood everywhere on the clothes and cobweb-like cracks almost obscuring time on the watch.

But amazingly, despite these, even because of these, nothing could cover up her stunning beauty. Her emerald eyes still shone with radiance beyond description; her fair skin looked almost sinful with bruises everywhere. Her slender body moved with grace fit for a ballerina.

Bobbi might have stared for a few seconds.

She couldn’t help but felt for her, but remembered her identity and this suspicious place at once. She tried her best to keep her voice from trembling along with her hands. "Who are you? Do you have any forms of identification? This is a government property and anyone trespassing will be prosecuted!"

_(Any normal person could have figured this out with all these military planes around. Brilliant opening remark, Morse.)_

"Er, they claimed they are processing my certificate, at least that’s what they told me. But they also beat me into this, so I’m not sure if I should believe that." The redhead shrugged. There was something strange in the way she spoke, but it could be she lost a tooth or something, Bobbi’s head was swimming with thoughts. _It seems to be quite common among field agents._

Doctor was stunned for a moment, unable to come up with a response, so she decided to ignore it completely. "Who are you? Who are they? Why are you here? If you don’t have an ID, how did you get in—"

" _Tsk,_ so many questions, Ms—Morse." The other woman tilted her head to check on her name tag, "I thought you American made it quite clear, something like, 'curiosity kills the cat'?"

"Doctor." Bobbi corrected cooly and narrowed her eyes, "so you’re that _allegedly_ tough Soviet spy? No wonder our people did these to you."

"Not bad, blondie. Ever considered changed into something more skintight?" The redhead winked at her lab coat and reached out a hand, "listen, I know we may start off at the wrong turn, but you seem nice. How about a friend? I’m—"

Bobbi closed their distance in surprising speed and halted before her, the gun barrel pressed between her eyes, cutting off any words she might have said.

"A free piece of advice, commie," she lowered her voice to threaten, "you’re on US soil now, where your dear motherland can’t protect you. Be careful what you say and do. After all, an asset deep in the enemy backline with connection cut off… she’s as good as dead."

"And here’s another free piece of advice in return, _Doctor_ Morse." For someone with a gun pressed to her head, the redhead was way too calm, but Bobbi highly doubted it was her first rodeo, "next time you want to scare the shit out of somebody with a gun, even if for posturing, at least turn off the safe."

Bobbi shifted her gaze on the gun in puzzlement. Although it was a short moment, the redhead gladly took this opportunity. When her gaze shifted back, she watched, dumbfound, as the other woman jumped into the air without any movie special effects, and the next second she fell on the ground with all of the air knocked out of her lungs.

The redhead curled her fingers around her throat, not enough to cut off all the air supply but enough to inhibit any resisting moves, the other hand gripping her wrist and pinned it to the ground. Bobbi was not a fool. A researcher surrounded by microscopes in laboratories all days was apparently nothing against a well-trained Soviet agent who had bathed in bullets, but the instinct to react, even to wave her limbs blindly, was too great to be denied completely. The following knee colliding into her chest stripped her of the second breath she finally managed to take, the other leg pressed on her other forearm, taking away any slight chance to get away.

_Plain nervous reflex,_ Bobbi thought dizzily with her brain that was gradually devoid of oxygen, _flight-or-fight, acceleration of heartbeat, increased blood flow, tensed muscles… physical reactions lead to psychological nervousness. Don’t worry, it’s all your brain. You’re not going to die here._

_Right?_

"Alright alright, I surrender!" she shouted, refraining from wincing from the added pressure by redhead’s apparent surprise, "listen, I’m sorry I point a gun at you, okay? But I bet you can understand a girl walking in the dark, right? Do you have sayings like 'girls gotta stick together' as well?"

Bobbi took advantage of the other woman’s dumbfound state and swung her relatively less restrained legs to propel her body toward the opposite direction. With a little force on the wrist at the same time, she actually grabbed onto the gun that fell to the ground in the fistfight.

Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. The redhead opened her mouth to form something Russian that fell between _wait_ and _oh fuck,_ while Bobbi scrambled up, fumbling on the gun for the first protruding part praying this is the safe aiming at the Soviet on the ground pulling the trigger—

She expected loud sounds, a gunshot or screaming, but neither came. The silencer on the gun made the bullet sound more like a sleep dart, and the woman only grunted and fell limp, her hand pressed on her left shoulder.

"Oh my _god!_ " The only thing breaking the silence as thick as the darkness around them was Bobbi who desperately restrained herself from covering her mouth with her hand in panic. The next thing she needed to restrain was the urge to throw the still smoldering gun across the entire hanger. _You’re going to need it,_ she reminded herself. _A wounded beast isn’t any less dangerous, if not more so._

"Oh, Barbara—ouch." the redhead’s delicate face scrunched up in pain, "that was—that was cold. I didn’t think you had what it takes. Clearly I was wrong and paid the stupid price."

Bobbi ignored her again. With the gun still pointed at her, she dragged her feeble body to the door again and picked up the receiver, "HQ, come in. This is Dr. Barbara Susan Morse from the R&D department, who’s in charge of Project Gladiator, SHIELD temporal number 9817; I’m at the sub-level 7 hanger, section C, Quinjet number 10, and I’ve taken captive of a Soviet asset at larg—"

It hit her before she could react. She wanted to scream, but an invisible hand, much stronger than the one moments ago, pressed down on her burning throat, paralyzing her. The receiver crashed onto the wall, and she fell back on the ground, the gun slipping from her hand.

The electric current left as soon as it came, but she still curled up on the cold cabin floor, twitching every now and then.

"Listen, Barbara, you might not believe someone you just tried to kill, but I quite like you." The redhead leaped from the ground, her hand on the unharmed side forming a fist pointing at the floor, her normal-looking watching emitting a string of strange blue light. "You’re sharp-minded. You have a quick reflex. You know how to create a distraction. Not good enough, but pretty impressive, and I'm not easily impressed. These are things you can’t just train yourself harder, which makes it even more valuable, not to mention you’re just a… lab rabbit? What is it?"

_It’s called a lab rat, you scumbag._ Bobbi cursed her and herself for the eagerness to please as always, even in a situation that was clearly inappropriate.

She bent over next to Bobbi, something akin to smugness finally appearing on her face more or less. Even though the latter still couldn’t move, she threw out cold stares enough to kill in return. "Oh, where are my manners?" She shook her "watch", "This is Widow’s Bite. Widow Bite, Dr. Morse. I believe you’ve made acquaintance." 

Bobbi was still staring at her coldly, murdering her over and over in her head. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever was next, which couldn’t be pleasant—

She never expected the woman to sigh and put down her hand, her face more serious this time.

"I am sincerely sorry that things turned out this way, Barbara." She clearly realized Bobbi’s highly suspicious look perfectly showed that she was hardly convinced, "you know what, in honor of good faith, I am going to take out the Sting, and you don’t bite my head off in the process, deal? Blink twice if I have made myself clear."

Bobbi took another deep breath and a long exhale.

She blinked twice reluctantly.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't finished the part where they talked and cleared up any misunderstanding, but I want to post this work asap. Might update the chapter and merge that part with this later.


End file.
